


What a day for a daydream (What a day for a daydreamin' boy)

by Brain_Brainson



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Gen, One-Sided Attraction, Unrequited Crush, but no angst about it, it's just Leonard crushing on his idol while Klaus is amused by the weird kid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:41:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23464861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brain_Brainson/pseuds/Brain_Brainson
Summary: The moment he turns around, he instantly recognises him.Klaus.
Relationships: Klaus Hargreeves & Leonard Peabody
Comments: 11
Kudos: 78





	What a day for a daydream (What a day for a daydreamin' boy)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [El_Imprestavel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/El_Imprestavel/gifts).



> Guess who's back (back back)  
> Back again!
> 
> This has been on my idea list for AGES but I somehow never got around to doing it even though it's not that difficult of a scene? Idk. 
> 
> Anyway, this is for Demi (who is also very likely the only one who's gonna read this lmao) but I had fun writing and I hope you have fun reading!
> 
> (A heads up though: Pronouns can definitely be confusing at times). 
> 
> Love you, Demi!

He meets him on a Wednesday. 

He’s supposed to buy groceries - buy the food his father left behind in favour of getting more liquor - but halfway on the way to the store he saw an ice cream parlor - big sign in fading blue: ‘ _ Pablo’s Palace _ ’.

He’s been standing here ever since. 

He’s just looking. He doesn’t know whether he has enough money for ice cream  _ and  _ groceries. But somehow he can’t bring himself to move. 

“So are you going in or are you waiting for the ice cream to come to you?”

Later on, he’ll look back to this moment and wonder why he didn’t recognise the voice. 

The same voice he knows from various interviews and from the expensive action figures his Dad never buys him, the ones that have built in catch-phrases and buttons you can press over and over to hear them. 

He’s heard that voice a thousand times before. He _ knows _ that voice. 

Except he’s never heard it live before, just like he never actually  _ saw  _ him before - save from the sidelines of closed off parameters, police lines and people bigger than him obscuring his view. 

Not now though. 

The moment he turns around, he instantly recognises him. 

He’s not wearing his mask - isn’t wearing his uniform at all and he’s alone, none of his teammates - his  _ siblings  _ \- to be seen. 

“Can’t walk and can’t talk either; we got a real winner here,”  _ The Seance  _ \- Klaus, it’s Klaus, the press revealed all their names about a month ago and he’s been repeating them in his head ever since, like a mantra. 

_ Luther, Diego, Allison, Klaus, Five, Ben, Luther, Diego, Allison, Klaus, Five, Ben, Luther, Diego, Allison-  _

**Klaus.**

It’s so surreal seeing him here but it must be him,  _ has _ to be Klaus. 

He didn’t spent hours watching the poster he put up in the attic - folded, so it would only show  _ The Seance _ and  _ Spaceboy’ _ s arm - didn’t stare and stare until he could tell the exact shade of brown of Klaus’ hair - hazel, but a little bit on the darker side, a shade some people may reckon as unimpressive but not him,  _ never  _ him - and the shape of his lips - full enough to make him blush if he looks for too long, make him wonder whether they would be soft - he didn’t notice all of these things only for him to not recognise his idol the moment he meets them on the street. 

(If someone were to ask - which no one ever does -, he’d say  _ The Rumour _ , no -  _ Allison _ \- is his favourite. Which is true, he likes her power most, thinks it’s the most badass one, but looking at her he doesn’t feel any different, nothing hot stirring inside his stomach, like snakes but also not like them at all. 

He only gets like that watching one person). 

“Are you deaf, too?” Klaus -  _ Klaus _ , oh god, it’s really Klaus - is waving his hand around, the other on his hips. 

He shakes his head. 

“Ah, finally!” Klaus smiles at him and he can feel his heart beating into his throat, thinks Klaus will be able to hear it too. “What dreamworld have you been stuck in, kiddo?”

He isn’t a little kid, they’re born on the same day after all, but Klaus doesn’t know that.

Doesn’t know anything about him whereas he knows  _ every _ thing, has been cataloguing every detail he could get his hands on ever since their first mission at the bank. 

Maybe he just seems younger somehow. 

Maybe it’s the height, Klaus nearly a head taller than him. 

“Nothing,” he says, belatedly realizes that’s not a fitting answer. 

But Klaus only shrugs, points to the entrance of the ice cream parlor.

“You got any money?”

He nods. “Yes, I-”

“Great! Then you’ll treat me to some ice cream! I’m  _ starving _ .”

* * *

They walk in side by side, Klaus’ arm slung around his shoulder like they’re _ friends _ and honestly, if this turns out to be a dream, it’s the best one he ever had. 

(Right next to the ones where his Father dies, where he ends up being adopted by Reginald Hargreeves _ himself  _ and lives in the mansion with everyone else. Goes on missions with them, has the best power of them all - he would be invulnerable, invulnerable and  _ immortal _ \- and he’d be even more popular than  _ Spaceboy _ ).

But this feels realer than any dream he ever had. 

He can feel the press of Klaus’ elbow, digging into his shoulder firm enough it stings a little, can feel Klaus’ breath hitting his ear as he tells him to go look for a place to sit. 

“I’ll take care of the  _ stuff, _ ” he says and he grins like it’s a secret they’re sharing, not just some ice cream. 

He dutifully sits down at a table next to one of the big windows the parlor possesses. Then rethinks his decision and switches to one in the corner, far away from curious passersby. 

If he’s able to recognise  _ The Seance _ , who’s to say no one else will?

‘ _ Although, _ ’ he thinks, looking at Klaus at the register, the way he leans against the little pillar by the wall, waiting for some other customer to be done with their order. ‘ _ He doesn’t seem worried about that _ .’

There hasn’t been an occasion where any of the members of the academy had been outside unmasked - or outside at all when there weren’t people in danger. He would’ve known that, carefully listens in on every radio report talking about them, saves enough money he can buy the newest edition of ‘ _ Inside The Academy _ ’ that comes out at the end of every month. 

He skims the parts he dislikes - the talks about a secret 7th superpowered kid, filling out at least 3 pages every time, written by people he suspects aren’t actual fans. 

Or the even worse articles every other month that mention words he didn’t know before, stuff like ‘ _ child abuse _ ’ and ‘ _ ptsd  _ ’ - he hasn’t found out what it stands for yet, only that it’s often used when angry people talk about the future of the academy. 

He doesn’t know why there are so many discussions about the future anyway. As long as there is crime and bad people - even badder than his Father - then there’s gonna be the Academy, ready to save the day. 

He could ask Klaus about that, he realizes, could ask him everything he had always wanted to know. 

…..But judging by Klaus’ normal clothing - he wears jeans,  _ jeans _ , and a t-shirt splattered with different colours, something his Father would never buy  _ him _ \- he gets the feeling that maybe Klaus doesn’t  _ want _ to be recognized. 

Wants to be a normal kid and not the hero he is. 

He can do that. He doesn’t understand why you wouldn’t wanna be someone everyone loves but maybe even superheroes need a break sometimes. 

Just need a friend to eat ice cream with. 

_ He can do that.  _

He waves when Klaus turns away from the register, two ice cream tubs in hand, eyes scanning the room for him. 

(For  _ him _ ). 

Klaus sits down next to him, slumps into the seat hard enough there’s a screeching sound. 

“Oops,” he says, but he’s grinning as he slides one of the tubs over. Reaches into his shirt pocket to produce two plastic spoons, sticks both of them into the respective scoops. 

“Thank you,” but it’s too quiet and the room is too loud, filled with people even though it’s not that warm, certainly not warm enough for ice cream. 

He wonders how Klaus isn’t shivering in his thin shirt, looks at his own arms, hidden by the sleeves of his sweater and his jacket. 

He would wear both anyway, regardless of temperature, so he decides not to pry. Maybe there’s a specific reason. Maybe it’s something Klaus doesn’t wanna talk about. 

(He knows  _ he _ wouldn’t like to be asked about it).

“So, what did you say your name was again?” Klaus is already halfway through his ice cream where he hasn’t even started, talks between bites. 

“I haven’t told you yet.”

“Oh.” Klaus stills for a second, then shrugs. “Why?”

He looks down at his tub. “You didn’t ask.”

“Oh! Where are my manners!” Klaus is speaking loud enough the couple at the next table briefly stops talking to look over to them. 

He flinches when he feels their eyes on him, picks at his sleeves. 

But Klaus doesn’t seem to notice any of that, simply sticks out his hand. “May I?”

He’s already taking his hand as he’s asking, obviously not expecting an answer. 

“I’m Kl-Felix!” He shakes his hand a little too long, a little too hard. 

Maybe he’s nervous because he just lied, but Klaus should know that he would never tell on him. Having an alias is good, all the big heroes from the comics have one. 

(There’s talk about an  _ Umbrella Academy _ comic, an official one, but nothing has been confirmed yet. He hopes it’ll happen but he doesn’t know how he’ll pay for it yet). 

Klaus stares at him, eyes huge and red-rimmed and he wonders whether he was crying. Feeling lonely, maybe. 

(He knows that feeling).

“And you are…?” Klaus lets go of his hand but keeps on looking at him. Obviously waiting for an answer. 

He squirms a little under Klaus’ gaze, looks past him and to the counter. The woman selling the ice cream is looking at her nails for some reason, unsuccessfully trying to stifle a yawn at the same time. 

His hand is tingling. 

“That kind of name, huh?” The tone of Klaus’ voice makes it obvious he  _ gets  _ it. Understands. 

“I’m named after my grandfather,” he confesses, even though that’s not the reason why he hates his name. He never met his grandfather after all, just like he never met his Mum. He likes to think she was nice and kind, but can’t explain why she would be with someone as mean as his father. 

His father, who says his name - _ the _ name - with so much disdain, so much contempt. Fills it with enough negative emotions he might as well have been named Hate. 

“Just change your name then.” Klaus pushes his empty tub away, gestures to his still full one. 

“You’re eating that, or…”

He shakes his head, let’s Klaus switch their tubs. “What do you mean ‘ _ change _ ’?”

Klaus sucks on his spoon for a moment, licks his lips. “I mean change it! Pick a new one.” 

“Just like that?”

Klaus nods. “Just like that. It’s what I did.” He leans back, crosses his arms behind his head, before moving again, folding his legs under himself. “I just woke up one day and poof-,” he snaps his fingers twice, then shrugs with his whole body. 

“Kl-Simon was born.” 

It’s like a revelation. 

In his 13 years on this earth he never once considered he could simply change. Change his name. Change his story. 

But he can. And Klaus is the one opening his eyes.  _ Klaus _ . 

His own personal superhero. 

“Thank you,” he says and he really means it. He wants to do something to show it, like buy more ice cream but he doesn’t have any money left. The shop must be really expensive. 

Meanwhile, Klaus is done with his second portion too. He scrapes the spoon against the walls of the empty tub, trying to get whatever rest there is. He doesn’t look up.

“Sure thing, kiddo.”

There’s silence, he doesn’t know what else to say. What do you ask someone you already know? He wonders where the others are, but he can’t risk exposing himself. Maybe then Klaus will leave. 

“Do you like ice cream?”

Klaus snorts. “Sure do.” He darts his eyes up, shoots him a little smile. 

(And oh, that’s even better than watching him smile on the grainy tv screen, makes his heart clench in a way that’s painful, but not necessarily bad. Like it’s supposed to feel like that. Because it’s important). 

“My favourite is vanilla, even though D-my brother always tells me I look like a chocolate guy.” Klaus shakes his head briefly and his hair follows the motion. “How can you even look like a chocolate guy?”

His hair is as short as all the boys of the academy have it but he thinks that if Klaus would let it grow, he’d have curls. 

He’d be pretty with curls. 

“What’s yours?” 

‘ _ Chocolate Chip, _ ’ he thinks. 

“Vanilla, too,” he says. 

“Cool!” Klaus is beaming at him and his stomach does a little somersault. His favourite can be vanilla from now on until forever. 

“Your Dad letting you have lots of sweets?” 

It’s a casual question, Klaus crossing his arms and looking at him - really looking at him now, not just glancing at him from time to time while he’s eating. He’s not used to as much attention. 

He feels warm, tucks at the sleeves of his sweater. Bites his lip. 

Then he breathes in, tries a smile that makes his face feel strange. “Sure.”

And suddenly, he can’t stop himself, words pouring out of him before he’s thought twice about it. 

_ ‘Change my name. Change my story.’ _

“My Dad has a pretty big sweet tooth himself. Most of the time,  _ I _ have to tell  _ him _ to eat something else.” His Father never buys sweets, at least not for him. But he isn’t  _ him  _ right now, is he? 

“He’s a good cook too though! My favourite is when he makes Lasagna himself. Or roulades!” He watches Klaus’ reaction to his words, sees how he believes the story he’s spinning. 

It’s  _ exhilarating _ . 

“He also spends lots of time with me. When he’s not working of course. We go camping on weekends.”

“Wow,” Klaus says, words drawn out. “Your Dad sounds pretty cool.”

“He is.” He works up to it for a moment, swallows a few times before he asks: “What about yours?”

“My Dad?” Klaus draws one of his knees up, rests his chin on top of it. He doesn’t think it’s allowed to have your shoes on the furniture here, but he doesn’t comment on it, just waits patiently until Klaus answers. 

“My Dad is….pretty much the same. A chill person. He likes to read us bedtime stories, me and my brother. Tells us he loves us.” Klaus smiles, although not as brightly as before, looks up at the ceiling. 

“Stuff like that.”

He knew it! 

He knew all those articles were wrong! How can someone as noble and great as Reginald Hargreeves not love all the children he adopted? They’re all just jealous that they aren’t special. 

Not like the academy is. 

(Not like  _ he _ is. He just needs to find his particular power first). 

Klaus stretches and it feels like their conversation is over. Like he decided it is. 

He can’t let that happen, not when they’re so perfect together. 

“What do you think?” He blurts. 

Klaus looks at him. “Mhh?”

“What do you think?” He repeats, a little less loud. Mindful of the people around them - the ones who still haven’t noticed exactly  _ who _ is sitting among them, however that is possible. “What kind of name would fit me?”

“Oh!” Klaus is back to grinning again. “Well, that’s an interesting question.”

‘ _ It’s a good question, _ ’ he thinks. ‘ _ I did good. _ ’

Klaus looks him over, actually reaches out with both hands, puts them on his shoulders. Shakes them a little. 

“I don’t know….,” he starts, eyes flitting from his hair to his face to his chest and back up again. “You look like an...Arthur? Maybe? Something that’s kinda old but not really.”

“Kinda old but not really,” he repeats. Whispered. He doesn’t dare speak to loudly. Or move too much. He doesn’t want Klaus to stop touching him. 

“Yeah,” Klaus agrees. “I don’t know that many names though. Theodor? Leonard? Something like that.”

He squeezes his shoulders a little, then drops his hands again. “Anyway, It’s getting late. I’ve gotta go.” Klaus waggles his eyebrows. “Places to be, people to meet.”

He stands up, waves with one hand as he’s already walking backwards. “Bye Bye, Kiddo. Thanks for the ice cream.”

He looks after him long after Klaus is already gone, feeling dazed. He can’t believe this really happened. 

“Bye Klaus,” he whispers, even though Klaus can’t hear him anymore. 

(He goes home later, groceries forgotten in favour of daydreaming about meeting Klaus again. His Father does a good job reminding him though). 

* * *

Next Wednesday he’s back. 

He sits at the same table as last week, buys two scoops of vanilla ice cream. Just in case. 

It’s the same woman behind the counter again. She doesn’t comment on him being back, maybe because she doesn’t remember him, but there’s also a younger woman who smiles at him when he walks in and then frowns when she spots his black eye. 

He waits for a whole hour, eating his ice cream as slowly as possible so they can’t throw him out, but no one’s coming.

He wonders whether he should buy more, but then the younger woman is walking up to his table. 

“Are you waiting for someone, honey?” 

He doesn’t know how to answer, feels a little put on the spot by her question, so he just does some kind of half-shrug, avoids her eyes. 

“You know, you can stay here for as long as you like. I’m sure they’ll show up eventually.” She smiles at him and he decides he likes her, likes how she doesn’t seem to dismiss him like everyone else. 

“What’s your favourite flavour?” 

“Vanilla,” he says, manages not to blush. 

“Okay, honey.” She takes his empty tub, briefly wipes down his table before winking at him. “Vanilla ice cream, will come right up.”

* * *

After another hour he admits defeat. It’s already starting to get dark out, if Klaus hasn’t shown up by now, he’ll never will. 

He goes up to the register to pay, at least for the vanilla scoop the nice woman brought him, but she makes a dismissive hand gesture when she sees him walk up to her. 

“It’s on the house.”

“Thank you.” He smiles at her, only feels a little awkward. 

Her eyes linger on his face for a second too long and he looks away. 

“Your friend didn’t come?”

He shakes his head, keeps his eyes on the ground. 

“You know, maybe they’re running late?”

He doesn’t think so. “I have to go now,” he only says. 

He looks up when he hears her shuffling around, watches her bend down and back up again. She slides a piece of paper and a pen over the counter. 

“You could write them a note, maybe? That way I can give it to them if they ask for you.”

He considers it for a moment. What should he tell Klaus? He would like to spend more time with him, but he doesn’t want Klaus showing up at his house. Or calling him, in case his Father picks up. 

But he also can’t wait around for him forever. 

“I don’t need to write a note,” he decides. “But maybe...you could tell him something? If you see him? His name is Klaus.”

“Sure thing, Honey.”

“Umm, just tell him that I go to the Hedley’s school for boys? The one across the park?” He waits for her to nod before he continues. “I stay there until 4 everyday. In case he’s ever….he ever wants to hang out.”

“I’ll tell him,” the woman assures him and he thanks her again.

She calls after him when he makes his way to the door. 

“Who should I tell him the message is from?”

He considers the question for a moment. 

‘ _ Change your name. Change your story. _ ’

“Leonard,” he says. 

“My name is Leonard.”

**Author's Note:**

> I call this: 
> 
> 'Local fanboy gushes about his crush' 
> 
> but also: 
> 
> 'Two boys lying to each other about their homelives'
> 
> If you've ever wondered: 'Is there any ship Brain doesn't write about?' Here is your answer!
> 
> See you over @b-rainlet on tumblr or whenever I will upload a new fic. See ya!


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